


The Child of Monsters & Men

by ArchaicJotun



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alive! Laufey, Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Mistaken assumptions, Not Bad Guys! Jotuns, age confusion, family bonding time, jotnar!loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchaicJotun/pseuds/ArchaicJotun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After falling into the abyss, Loki lands on Jotunheim, devoid of any of his memories. He is found and taken to Laufey (who Loki did not kill, merely injure slightly) who discovers who Loki really is. He tells Loki that he is his missing son and that he knows nothing of his past. Is this a trap designed to turn Loki against Asgard or is there more at hand than we know?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fall From Grace

There he was, hanging above the abyss by a hand. Nothing between him and a vortex of nothingness. Yet, in his mind there was nothing but him & Odin. Loki had always craved Odin's attention, whether good or bad. 

He had given up when he was much younger, once he realized that no amount of subjects and magic he mastered would draw his attention away from Thor, his first born, his golden child. Even then, hanging above the nothingness of space, feeling the pull of the vortex, all he craved was Odin's approval.

"I could have done it Father! I could have done it." He paused, looking at Odin beseechingly, "For you, for all of us!" He stared upwards at Odin, desperately waiting for some form of reply.

"No, Loki." He felt what little hope he had left that he held some place in Odin's heart and wasn't merely a monster dressed up to parade around break. In that moment, he felt like nothing. Every semblance of who he was was a lie.

He was not the son of Odin; he wasn't even Æsir. 

No wonder he had never had any friends as a child, prince or not. They viewed him as weak for his magic. But it turned out it wasn't his magic that made him different, but the blood that ran through his veins, the eminence masked as crimson. He had no chance of gaining Odin's love or approval and only then, with the reveal of what he truly was, could he understand why.

Monsters are the villains of every story, every tale of adventure and tragedy. This was his story, with the noble Thor defeating the Lie Smith Loki, the Jotnar spawn. And this was his end. With this thought and a tear he was unable to stop, he let go of Gungnir, and let himself fall back into the abyss, Thor's denials falling over him, muffled as if he were being pulled back into the sea instead of the vacuum of space. He closed his eyes and welcomed the darkness.

When he woke, all he could think was that his body hurt like a thousand singular flames burning beneath his skin. When he thought about it, it made sense that he was never as comfortable in the summer as the other children. He felt simultaneously weightless and as if he weighed the Universe at the same time. He had not the strength to open his eyes, his breathing shallow from what little control he had over his body. The lights of the vortex passed behind his eyes, flashes through the darkness. He could do no more than fly through space, his body lax. He knew not how much time passed, perhaps seconds, perhaps millennium. But at the moment, everything seemed to stop. The flames stopped, the was no weight pressing upon him, and the feeling of motion was no longer upon him. 

In that second, he felt free, like none of what had transpired between Thor, Odin, and himself had never happened. He could say, in all the honesty you could get from a Silver Tongue, that if this was truly to be the end of him, the end of all that was ever Loki, he could relinquish himself to death. But then the pain began and he was only thankful enough when the blackness of unconsciousness welcomed him into its embrace, like Frigga once had when he still tried.

His first thought was that the snow that surrounded him looked so pure and undisturbed, as if it had never been trodden upon. As he looked, he realized that the cold that kept the snow in its crystalline form didn't seem to reach him.

He sat up, a layer of snow falling from his chest onto his legs. Whatever he had been wearing, what appeared to once be a cloak and a tight leather ensemble was torn to shred. Pieces hung off him, his chest and a majority of his legs, exposed to the wind and snow. He stood up on unsteady feet, nearly falling when he legs felt as if they would give out on him.

A larger percentage of the green cloak he wore was still intact. He removed it from his shoulders, just noticing the golden metal object resting upon his sternum, looped around his shoulders. Bits of black fabric still clung to it. After a passing glance, he paid no more attention to it, leaving it where it rested. He slung the cloak around himself in a toga style, tying it in place on his left shoulder. He brushed his bangs back and paused. He grabbed a lock of his hair. It was inky black, standing out crudely against the canvass of white. His skin was a pale cream and from what he could see, flawless of scars and imperfections.

He sighed. He didn't know who he was or where he was. The only memories he could recall were of his awakening, a re-birthing into a land of snow and ice. He paused in his evaluation of himself to survey his surroundings. He seemed to be in a valley, between two tall mountains. He could see a dip between them. That would be his only way if he were to leave the valley. In any way he looked, everything was white, blanketed in snow for miles on miles. The mountains looked to be made of ice instead of any mineral or rock. The sky above him was only slightly darker, clouds covering as far as his eyes could see.

His minds made up, he took a step towards the path between the two mountains, his unclad foot sinking to mid-calf in snow. He paused before sighing and continuing on until he was out of the valley. traversing though the mountains. He continued to walk, not feeling the snow and wind that continued to blow.

He noticed as he walked, that the light that somehow prevailed to shine through the clouds had gradually dimmed and by then, he could barely see in front of himself, only seeing the flurry of snow that flung his hair every which way. After about five minutes of this, he had paused and tore a strip from what remained of his trousers and tied it back. From what he had observed of himself, his hair wasn't too long, stopping barely above his shoulders, but certainly long enough to be a bother. By the time he stopped walking, there was no trace of light to be seen, the sky a darkened grey. He had no choice. His feet, though the cold did not seem to hinder him, were sore and he could feel his eyes droop as he walked.

He had not yet escaped the mountainous area, still walking upon the path he had used to leave the valley he had woken up at. He ducked into a small cave carved from the side of the mountain, barely large enough to be cover from the everlasting snow. He untied his cloak and laid it out upon the ground of cave. He settled upon it, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He let his eyes flutter shut and sleep consume him as he pondered his situation.

He woke to light in his eyes, nearly blinding him with the power of it reflecting off the snow. He pushed himself off the cave floor, wincing as his back popped from the uncomfortable position he had slept in. He leaned down and picked up the cloak he had been using as covering. He readjusted it around his body and took a step out of the cave. 

He squinted his eyes against the light, trying to see his surroundings. In the dark of the night before, he had been unable to tell how much farther he had to go to escape the mountain pass. Under the light of day, it was apparent that the end was somewhere from two to three miles from where he stood. He would be able to travel much faster than the night before without the snow constantly beating down upon him and the wind hindering his speed. 

The day was nowhere to what he would call warm, but from what he could gather, it was a nice enough day. He began his trek through the pass anew, looking around for anything besides ice and snow, perhaps and animal or even some form of plant. He hadn't noticed before but the adrenaline that filled him before was depleted and so, apparently, was his stomach. He rubbed his belly as the gnawing feeling continued.

By the time he had reached the end of the pass, the light of day had waned into afternoon. From where he stood at the very end of the mountains, laid out in front of him was what appeared to be a plain, covered in snow. Yet there, in the distance, he spotted what looked to be a forest, if the trees he had known were thin, rising up high into the sky. 

From what he could see from the distance away he stood, the trees appeared to be grey and bare of any fruit. He started towards it. He may not see anything, but there could be something salvageable to eat. After about half an hour of walking, a loud crack interrupted his thoughts. He stopped walking and paused, straining his ears to hear the same sound again. After about a minute, the sound repeated, originating from beneath his feet. He knelt and brushed away the snow. 

Beneath him was pure ice, large white cracks littering the surface. As he watched. another large crack spanned the ice he could see, a loud sound accompanying it. He stood and began to walk faster. From behind him, a large shattering sound drew his attention. He turned quickly, only to see the place he had stood a moment ago, break apart and sink into the water that lay below the ice. His heart leaped as another crack went through the air, closer than before. He started backing up, aiming closer and closer towards the trees. The water had to end eventually. If not at the trees, then where?

He flinched as he was wrenched from his thoughts as another large chunk of ice in front of his collapsed. He turned around and began to run towards the trees. He wasn't as fast as he wished because of the fatigue of walking all day and the lack of food he had consumed the past two days. As he ran, he hears the repeated crack of ice, collapsing and sinking beneath the water. His breath is coming out in visible pants, clouds trailing behind him. 

He reached out and grabbed the first tree before turning around, his back against the tree, its grey bark pressed hard against him.In front of him was a raging river, its water rushing by quickly, picking up any ice that had been left. Had he still be present on the ice, and thus in the water, he would have been pulverized by the speed the water was rushing. He let out a shaky breath as he tried to calm his heartbeat. He placed a hand against his chest and took in a few deep breaths, letting them out after a decent amount of time.

He looked around, paying special attention to the trees, as he began to walk. He had been incorrect when he assumed that the trees were barren. They were littered with a type of vegetation if looked for in the right place. He could see many light purple lumps curled around the branches of the trees, as if hiding in plain sight. He reached up and plucked a few from the closest tree. With the first one, he pried it open, the hard shell of another making it easier. The insides resembled a type of nut, a midgardian nut by the name of pecan.

He took the meat from the shell and gave it a sniff. It smelled normal, no detection of any poisonous substance he could detect. Finally, after evaluating the nut from about every angle, he dropped it in his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and then waited. When nothing happened after about three minutes, he plucked more from the tree and continued through the forest. He had just reached a clearing when the sounds of crashing began and large vibrations were felt though the ground. 

He turned to his left in time to be clipped on the side of his head by what looked like a giant club. He was flung onto the ground, the snow cushioning the blow slightly. He looked up, and up, until he met a pair of red eyes drowning in a face of deep blue. The being seemed to be at least twice his height, if not more. He had to physically tear himself away from his thoughts to pick up the fact that this giant blue man was speaking, muttering hateful things, scathing remarks.

"Filthy little Asgardian!" It sneered down at him, "On Jotunheim, after what your kind did!" It spit on the ground. Suddenly, its mouth split open into a smirk that promised torment, whether physical or mental. "Well, you won't be getting back now will you, little pasty! Not after what that little prince of yours did, your little silver tongue indeed!" From behind him came the sounds of another giant for lack of a better word. And so one appeared, carrying a large animal that resembled a boar, over a shoulder and an ax over the other.

"What're you got there?" it asked, peering down at him. The first giant smirked over towards the second. 

"Got us an itty bitty Asgardian." The second giant sneered down in anger before turning back towards the second. 

"Well, you know what we do with Asgardians." Its next words were like a sentence to death. "We take em to King Laufey."


	2. Out of the Sack & Into Frozen Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An encounter no one expected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is so late guys! Thanks so much for those that left comments! (aibj, The+Phoenix+and+the+Dragon, miravisu, and Anna) Also The+Phoenix+and+the+Drag, they grabbed him by the tunic he wore, not his skin, but read on and you'll see whether he changes or not. Sorry it's so short. Enjoy!

He was then promptly thrown into a sack filled with the nuts he had partaken off before. At first, he was scrunched up on his back, his legs up and his knees practically touching his face. After a bit of maneuvering, he was able to right himself so that his head was up and his legs were down, sitting upon the nuts, though he seemed to be sinking with each monstrous step the giant holding him took.

He had tried struggling at first, testing the sack for weakness and kicking out, hoping to hit the giant hard enough for it to release its hold on him. Consequently, any struggling he had done resulting in a swift smack that, although through the fabric, was sure to leave a dark bruise upon his cheek and probably a majority of his right side.

Eventually, he had succumbed to his fate and only squirmed every now and again to unbury himself from the nuts that managed to once again cover his legs. He had gradually started grabbing the nuts, nibbling on their insides. He felt that if he was going to die, they were at least going to supply a last meal. Even this got boring as time went by. It seemed he had been squished in the sack for ages. They would momentarily pause every now and again and a few more nuts would be tossed inside, most usually hitting him in the head before rolling to lay along his legs.

He lay one arm across his eyes. He had passed the phase of fear of death and the acceptance of it. He was now in complete boredom. Alone with his thoughts for so long, he had no choice but to try and evaluate his past, if he had one. It seemed the only thing he actually remembered was intense pain and the feeling of betrayal and intense sadness. He sighed before rubbing his eyes. 

As he was beginning to contemplate taking a nap, he heard the sound of numerous voices off in the distance. They must be nearing a city, he thought. A flicker of nervousness fluttered in his stomach before he quenched it. The voices were now around him, passing him. He could only catch a few phrases, most whose meaning was unknown to him.

They had walked for a few minutes more when the sounds quieted. They once again spoke in their guttural tongue. They stopped, and before he could get his bearings, the bag, with him still inside, was tossed to the ice floor. He toppled out, nuts all around him. He lay on his stomach, his head pounding slightly from the impact against the floor. 

He lay on his stomach for a second more before lifting his head slightly, his eyes immediately meeting the crimson gaze that glared down at him in anger. In front of him, upon a throne of ice, sat a giant that looked to be made from the frigid ice himself. Its eyes were ablaze with rage, the crimson deepening into lava, as if they could melt all in its path.

Abruptly he was grabbed by his cloak, still wrapped loosely around his body. He had to grab the arm the clutched him so as to not fall back down to the hard crystalline ground. The giant’s second arm came up and gripped his neck, practically squeezing the life out of him. His hands had transferred to the hand around his neck, desperately clawing at it. As his vision darkened around the edges, the giant’s words began to penetrate his thoughts.

“A foolish little creature you are.” He paused his words, squeezed harder then continued, “To come here, after what you’ve done to us all!” He narrowed his eyes, “As ruler, I sentence you to death!” He practically hissed his last words, his hand slowly crushing the throat still clenched in his fist.

His hands had dropped, no longer strong enough to struggle. With his last reserves of strength, he raises his eyes, meeting the translucent gaze, remnant of rubies. The giant had drawn back, his grip loosened. As the black consumed him, he had the strangest perception of falling.

LAUFEY POV

He looked down at the boy, his eyes wide in disbelief. As he watched, the blue bled from his skin, shifting into the pasty white color he had arrived with. He knelt down and reached for the boy’s wrist. At his touch, the skin surrounding the wrist he held melted into the light blue most would recognize to belong to the Jotnar. He watched as the powder blue travelled up his arm and travelled along his chest.

As he observed, heritage lines began to rise upon his skin. Laufey nearly drew back in surprise. He lifted the hand that did not clutch at the boy’s wrist and raised it to his face, pushing the black hair back from his forehead, his fingers lingering along the lines so familiar to himself.

“My king?” His head jerked up, locking eyes with one of the scavengers that had found and brought the boy. He stood, lifting the boy along with him. He fit in the crook of one arm. His face hardened as he looked down upon his citizens, their faces echoed in confusion. 

“It is of no concern.” He angled his head towards the large doors as the end of the throne room, “You are all dismissed.” He stressed the all, signaling for everyone to leave. After the populace had vacated the room, he took the chance to look down at the bundle in his arms, surveying his features. His hands shadowed the angle of his nose, the tilt of his lips. His cheeks were chiseled like the treacherous ice mountains yet familiar, as if he had caressed them time and time before.

Laufey turned and exited out the small door to the side of his throne. He walked down the hallway until he reached his chambers, allowing the two Jotnar outside it to open it for him. He walked in, acknowledging the shutting of the door before continuing. He travelled to the bed and set his bundle down, covering him in a dark grey fur. He seemed so miniscule, surround by the furs of animals that were easily double, maybe triple his size. He sat in the chair besides the bed and laid his face in his arms. How was he to tell his mate of this? How was he to tell him of what had happened to their little Loptr?


End file.
